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by LeviathanHomeCooking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Children, Attempt at Humor, Babies, Humor, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking
Summary: Jack and Brock adopt a baby, and get thrown a surprise baby shower. Which is super inconvenient because they're in the middle of trying to get rid of a dead body.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





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**Author's Note:**

> This was a literal [dream I had](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com/post/187736663493).
> 
> This work was also created for RumRollins Week 2019.

Brock can barely think straight beyond the piercing shriek of his daughter’s wailing. He’s been up since 02:00 but he’s been accruing a massive sleep debt for a while now. If it was anybody else’s kid Brock would have probably strangled it by now, but Brock has a soft spot for Abigail’s chubby red cheeks and big doe eyes. Even now, screaming quite a few decibels beyond what Brock will tolerate, snot and spit smearing over the baby’s face from endless fits, and probably all over something silly that Brock has yet to decipher, he can’t be mad at her.

But he can be mad at Jack all he likes.

Jack, who has been for the past 30 minutes on hands and knees in the living room wiping blood from between the cracks in the floorboards over the spot where the antique coffee table used to be. The one his Nonna left to him in her will that is now very fancy, splintery firewood. 

Brock slaps the towel in his hands onto his shoulder and throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, time to switch. I’ve done literally everything! She’s not wet, she’s not hungry, she won’t go to sleep! I don’t know what she wants!” 

Jack sits back on his heels to look at his flustered husband standing in the middle of the kitchen. Their baby is still trapped in her high chair and screaming bloody murder. “You can’t just push her off on me when you don’t know what to do, you’re her dad too.” Jack sighs. He rings out a rag into a bucket of red water.

“Now’s really not the time for a parenting lesson. We need to get that thing—” Brock points to a very human-shaped garbage bag wrapped in tape lying next to shreds of their coffee table, “outta here.” Just looking at it almost pushes Brock over the edge, social services can just waltz in whenever they want because he and Jack had the nerve to adopt a baby instead of cum one out like the billions of other people on the planet, at least during this temporary grace period.

Jack concedes and abandons the floor in favor of washing his hands and arms thoroughly before finally taking Abigail in his arms and bouncing her gently. He whispers and coos to her, patient in all the ways Brock isn’t. “Sun’s still up, better to move it later after dark.” He says in between his cooing. Brock is grumbling to himself.

“S’Your fault we’re in this mess ‘n the first place…” Brock mumbles.

“You really want to have this conversation again?” Jack’s reply is more of an icy threat. 

Brock huffs, trying to avoid rekindling the flame of a very raw, very recent argument. Brock can avoid Jack’s gaze all he likes but he can still feel the man glaring daggers at him. “Your daddy’s a ripe old bastard.” Jack whispers to Abigail, whose fit has deescalated to only big, tearful sniffles. Neither have ever played the blame game against each other and won, best to let it lie.

After Brock dumps out the water, he seals up the soiled mop and rags in plastic for disposal later. This would have been a lot easier with one of Hydra’s clean up crews, but they’ve already asked Pierce for far too many favors as it is. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Fuck, that’s probably that bitch social worker again.” Brock curses. He doesn’t know what crawled up her ass, but she likes to harass them almost on the daily. 

“I’ll get the door, you get that fuckin’ thing outta here.” Brock orders, referring to the very obvious corpse in their living room. “Where?” Jack asks, because there’s nowhere in the house they could hide it. Many of their doors have outside locks in order to store their personal weapons and confidential work documents. The social worker takes a locked door as a challenge. 

“Somewhere outside, figure it out!” Brock orders, marching towards the door after the second ring. But when Brock flings open the door, he’s not met with sour face of their heavy set social worker.

“Surprise!” A chorus of familiar voices cheer. There, standing on his porch, are several of their coworkers. Brock blinks like a dumbass and what falls out of his mouth is, “What the fuck?”

“You rat bastard, you didn’t tell us you were adopting a baby.” Johnson says. “No way you get out of us throwing you a baby shower!” Rodriguez chimes in. Rogers is looking sheepish, clearly he was roped into this by the rest of the team.

Brock can’t believe this. They pulled this same stunt after he and Jack got married without telling them. Except they had enough boundaries to ambush them at work—and treat them to an obnoxiously inappropriate penis-themed wedding party. A man’s house is sacred! What used to be a safe place for him and his loved ones now keeps getting violated by trespassers! 

Brock’s clenching the door frame so hard it’s splintering. “If now’s not a good time we can go.” Rogers suggests warily, always the courteous boy-scout. “We’ve got gifts! Real gifts this time and not just dildos! Baby stuff.” Rodriguez chimes in, rattling around a wrapped package. Brock’s gotta stall, he can’t have Rogers or Romanoff catching a glimpse of Jack moving the body. He reluctantly lets them in.

Meanwhile, Jack covered the body bag with a blue construction tarp and is dragging it down their side yard. There’s a hole he dug at the side of the house from when they were repairing the foundation, it’ll have to do for the moment. There’s a flew planks covering the hole, so he moves them aside so he can roll the bundle in. There’s a heavy thud and Jack can see a trickle of red dripping from the bundle. 

There’s nothing he can do for now, so he heaves himself up to cover to hole but freezes when he sees a figure standing a few feet away. 

It’s their social worker.

* * *

When Jack walks back inside, he’s heaving like he just ran a marathon, looking like a deer in the headlights seeing his friends and coworkers in his living room, fawning over his daughter, and Rogers putting some contraption together with Dwyer’s help. Brock approaches him, Abigail in hand, and already knowing what Jack is going to ask says: “It’s a surprise shower, apparently.”

“We’ve got a problem.” Jack says.

“Fuck yeah we do.” Brock replies.

“No, we have another problem.”

* * *

When Jack lifts the tarp of the hole in their yard, Brock nearly blows his own head off because lying there on top of the black garbage heap, is the stiff body of their social worker, neck jutting at an unnatural angle. His home is turning into a nightmare murder house real quick. 

“Okay, this one might actually be my fault.” Jack says.

Brock has a feeling there’s about to be three bodies in that hole.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my[ Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)


End file.
